Page 60 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

“Who else is going for a vacation?” I wondered aloud.

Adrian was unresponsive, like he’s questionably contemplating his life choices.

Tilting my head, I asked louder.

“Who was it?” I tried again, leaning forward.

“My brother,” he answered, tinged in rough and edge sound. “Bjorn was usually a busy, during his office work in later hours. So Dad wanted Bjorn’s assistance to go, and be as their luggage carrier.”

My head tilted slightly. “So, they’re not here?”

“No.” He flashed a quick smile, pouring another drink.

“He doesn’t come by until,” He checked his watch, “around 5 A.M. to pack his luggage and follow them at Malta. Recently, Dad and Bjorn were working late again, gain more source of income, Dad had the late minute business. But Bjorn’s working later than usual, hence why Bjorn didn’t go with them. ”

“They aren’t satisfied with what they have? Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, I mean.”

Playfully, he scoffed, shaking his head in genuine dismay. “Even buying a Bentley or the latest Ferrari won’t do any good to docile their inner peace. They need something of a…lesser headache. Besides, if they stay in the other country for a long-term vacation, I don’t mind. Everyone wins.”

He scoffed in amusement.

“But…who will clean up the estate?”

“I don’t mind cleaning,” he said, propping his elbow, “as long as there’s no nagging in the early morning, someone was nagging so often makes me feel lazy and incompetent, not wanting to do anything afterwards but giving dedication to longer sleep.

I love sleeping—not that kind of sleep, I like hugging pillows and snuggled up in a blanket, wall-air freshener scented in a dark bedroom. ”

“And that someone nagging is…your mother,” I said with caution.

He swirled, playing with his fresh drink, his listless eyes followed the melted ice. “Yeah.”

Nodded, taking a quick, smallest sip on a crystal-clean glass, taste buds tingled and electrified at a burning—sweet and tangy sensation of Mojito.

Nothing like the red wine or any of the rations I’ve fed in my empty belly.

“So, how was it?” Adrian inclined nearer, elbows propped over the bar table, animated eyes fixed on me.

Nodded, I cleared my throat, unable to spew the right words to describe this unknown substance which has been choking my voice out. “Burning,” I said, choking a little, masking my lips with a sleeve. “Tangy. But…it tastes sweet.”

Coughing, I caught a sight of him chortling, bemused at my reaction. He couldn’t blame me since it’s my first time trying a foreign substance to my taste buds.

Somehow, a relief etched across his placid face, like he has outdone himself on exposing me to try newer things, things that are considered perfectly normal.

And it was a delightful feeling.

He sighed in relief, a genuine smile was evident. “Glad you like it. I was hoping you didn’t hate the drink. I was hoping you’d ask for more.”

Suspicious, I uttered, “What happens if I don’t ask for more?”

He clicked his tongue, his cheeky smile showed.

“Then,” Adrian entered the kitchen and position a white box on the bar table.

Unsealing the tape, he flipped the top over and unveiled the angel-shaped donuts, encrusted with red-dotted heart on the center.

A sweet, powdery scent wafted in my nose as my throat dried.

Rubbing my aching belly, I knew why Adrian acquired me to accompany him in an immediate hour. “You’ll settle for these instead.”

Gasping in fright, my fingers itched to grab for a bite.

“Don’t be shy around me. Eat what you like. Grab one,” he coaxed, his body leaned forward as his elbows placed, anticipating.

Shyly, I took another angel-shaped doughnut and fed it to my lips.

A sinful hunger on my lips quenched for a sweet relish, tender doughnut clenched in between my teeth, gorging on soft-powdered bread, smearing over my lower lips.

Licking my sweet-glazed powder, she hadn’t realized Adrian’s mouth parted, subconsciously licking his lower lip, eyes fixated at my slight movement, relishing over a sweet perishable.

I not once ate anything besides a plain soup and bread devoid in hearty meals.

Frail as a feather, but I had a few rations to keep my vigor going.

As for the hygiene, I don’t have the ability to share confidence. Not with him.

“This doughnut is delicious!” I faintly gasped in awe, a warm sensation soothed in my empty belly, my hand placed over it. Inside the angel-shaped powder doughnut I have, this one is contained in tender bread, coated in dark red.

“That’s not the only flavor you ate,” he pointed out, and registered the sweet in his opened lips, savoring the delight sweetness coated on his tongue and teeth.

Humming, he made a long well-thought procedure as he chewed. “This one is custard with vanilla.” He outstretched the eaten doughnut at me. “Try it,” he encouraged.

Teeth crunched into soft-baked bread, I chewed. “I like this one, too.”

My finger aimed at the uneaten sweet-filled doughs. “These have others different flavor inside, right?”

Adrian informed other kinds of fillings in the angel-shaped doughnuts.

In pleasantries, he confirmed with a humorous nod, bemused at my little reaction.

Normally I’ve been told it’s stupid and useless to react such things in minor details.

They couldn’t withstand how responsive I could be, despite being impulsive, told me to stifle it because it weakens the individual and embarrassed others.

And as I do, guilt overtook me, like I’m underestimating myself further and strung along their sharp words once they’ve said their last word, taken me across the empty, cold air I don’t wish to embrace.

“Try this one.” Adrian distributed an angel-shaped doughnut, a vanilla-scented powder and glistening honey syrup wafted in my nose, belly was grumbling again.

Adrian motioned his eyes once more, corner of his lips tugged to a smirk.

My mouth watered and munched on the small piece. “Which one did I get?”

“My guess is cranberry? No, wait, I ordered raspberry. Either of those, I knew you liked both.”

“I hadn’t tried cranberry, actually,” I muttered sheepishly, my cheeks reddened at my confession.

“Go on,” he coaxed, lightly giddied like a child.

I took one big bite. The flavored jam inside was tangy and sweet simultaneously, heightened its tingle dancing on my watering taste bud.

My mouth contemplated and I gave a slight indication of my verdict.

“I like it,” I simply said, nodding in approval.

Picking up another doughnut, and chewed once. “This one is blue.”

He nodded, contemplated. “That’s chocolate brownie with blueberry in it.”

Licking my lips, I tested another doughnut. On the farthest corner on the top right, I plucked another doughnut and inserted it in my mouth.

This one tasted like a warm hug. “And what’s this one?”

His smirk drew wider. “Cookies and cream,” he replied, his pitch-black eyes twinkled. “Just the one you like.”

My thin brow quirked. “Cookies and cream is my favorite?”

He chortled. “Yeah, you did. I gave you a piece of Oreo, back when you worked here at this house to do some internal cleaning, where I taught you to dip the Oreo in the milk.”

My belly wrapped and elevated at his words. “Adrian…”

His eyes flickered alight again as I took a tasteful bite. “I knew you’d like it.”

“So,” I munched the cookies and cream flavor, “where are your friends? Are they going to be here, too?”

His tone shifted. “What party?”

“Um, the party,” I clarified, swallowing the sugary content sticking in my taste buds. “Here at your place.”

Adrian staggered briefly at my answer.

He’d shaken his head, he’s close to guffaw. “My friends are out of town, and some decided to stay late at the Rivers Foundations, doing God knows what.”

My head tilted in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Flushed at his random quick burst, his shoulders shrugged. “I don’t know. I…didn’t attend.”

My lips opened, flabbergasted. “Why’s that?”

Sighing, he scooted his drink aside. “Because I have something more important to focus on, something more…palpable I couldn’t pinpoint.”

Was he crying out for help? In despair? Or hopeless luck?

His face was positively glowing at my guesses, but I couldn’t reach for accuracy, to excel his expectations.

“What could be more vital than a large gathering?” I said, crunching my teeth on a doughnut. “Is Marceline not going to be here? How about Aaron? Did they say anything?”

His pitch-black eyes gleamed as his head inclined upwards, his formal blouse.

The air stopped and my heart was thumping, hands clutched on either object, fingernails dug in as I swallowed my worst fears playing over my consciousness. For someone who has been fixated his eyes on me, he sure is committed, staring, unblinking.

This is how often he acted. The way his body tense, his gaze intent and careful, his mind locked onto my thoughts yet occupied elsewhere—unreadable and unimaginable, overwhelmed with scenarios and possibilities of how he’s unpredictable yet predictable.

One moment he’s still, the next he’s on the move in a quickened pace.

Like an animal, he’s unreadable and yet one expression gave it all.

It frightened me, but fascinated me to a point where I watched him back, unable to avert; his posture leaned forward, eyeing me closely, like he was dying to say or not wishing me to leave from the premises.

His strange behavior has been frequent, and blatantly obvious as I gotten to acquaint with his persona.

My face heated at his close proximity, and a little curl on his mouth quirked. A brief chuckled emitted, as he lifted his thumb to swipe the speck on my round cheekbone aside.

After a long procession, he stood up and reclined, plopped by the grey modular couch. His hand patted. “Come sit here,” he uttered coolly.

At once, I hopped off from the high bar stool and perched down on an empty spot.

His brows crinkled.

“No,” he said, urgent, his brows twitch to aggravation.